


bleed into one

by simplyclockwork



Series: natural progression [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing and Singing, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Sappy, Self Prompt, Series, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: "new year’s eve—we’re both a little tipsy,we come home wide awakeand play music in thedead of early morning.we sloppily slow dance in the kitchen.I kiss your face andyou smile, slurring alongto the song,as we sway backand forth"
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: natural progression [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538974
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	bleed into one

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet 15 in a series of short fics I'm planning to write based on posts from the tumblr account affectionatesuggestion
> 
> Original post from tumblr was:
> 
> "its new year’s night and we’re both a little tipsy, we come home not wanting to go to bed so I play some music on my phone and we both sloppily slow dance in the kitchen. I kiss your face and you giggle, slurring along to the song. As we sway back and forth there’s nowhere else I’d rather be”
> 
> The series will follow a progression into an established Johnlock relationship

Though Sherlock rarely attends social events, John convinces him to say yes to Lestrade’s invite for New Year’s Eve drinks at the pub. Despite his grumbles, the detective looks forward to the evening, not that he will ever let on. But John knows, and he smiles, allowing the self-labeled sociopath to play at irritation during the cab ride to the location.

When they step out onto the sidewalk, the cold air bites at their faces; snow swirls around them as they rush into the pub. They find Lestrade and the team, dropping into seats around a small table, accepting poured pints and excited discussion.

“All right everyone,” Sally declares, breaking into conversations. “New Year’s resolutions—out with ‘em!” Thoughtful looks drift over the faces of those in attendance; Lestrade pipes up first.

“Quit smoking!” He announces, then looks rueful. “_Again_.” He adds, and Sally snorts. She turns and points at Anderson.

“Okay, go.”

The crime scene investigator screws his face up; narrows his eyes. “Uh… I’d like to read more?” He says, slowly, and Sally nods. Sherlock rolls his eyes and they all ignore him.

“I think I’d like to finally go to France,” Sally muses, tapping fingers against the side of her beer glass. “Keep meaning to, never do.” As the table erupts into shock and teasing, she waves her hand, bringing silence again. “Yeah, yeah, shove it up your arseholes. John, what about you?”

John looks thoughtful as he swallows a mouthful of beer. Finally, he nods. “Okay, I got mine. I’m going to bike more.” He shrugs. “Good for the heart, you know?” He smiles; turns to Sherlock. “What about you?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “_Please_, John. Resolutions are, as with most traditions, completely irrelevant and have no impact on— ow!” John’s elbow digs into his side and he scowls. Sighing, he waves a hand. “Fine. I suppose I resolve to… solve more cases?”

John rolls his eyes. “Prat.” He mutters. “That doesn’t count.” Sherlock huffs, annoyed.

“_Fine._” He snaps and is quiet for so long that the others begin to talk amongst themselves. Only John stays focused, watching the detective’s face with rapt eyes. When Sherlock looks back at him, the detective’s mouth quirks. “I suppose I resolve to spend more time with the—the people in my life who are… important.” His eyes narrow, mouth settling into a hard line, but a faint tinge of pink colours his cheeks and John grins.

“Cheers to that.” He replies, voice soft, and clinks his glass to Sherlock’s, raising it to his lips. Sherlock stares and slowly does the same, watching John over his own glass with curious eyes.

As the night wears on, drawing nearer to midnight, the energy of the pub rises to a frenzied excitement. Decidedly tipsy and rather overwhelmed, Sherlock scowls at the table, vision blurry through a haze of alcohol. When he begins to snap at others for minor things, John excuses them both, sweeping Sherlock out into the street with him amid goodbyes and well-wishes.

Outside, snow falls in thick, sound-muffling flakes, and, aside from the occasional passerby, they are alone in a world of tumbling white. They walk through the cold streets, and, when John shivers, Sherlock pulls a flask from his coat pocket, a crooked grin on his full lips.

“Took it off Lestrade when he wasn’t looking.” Sherlock states, voice thick and full of vowels. John just laughs, shaking his head, and takes a pull from the flask. Hot, burning alcohol paints fire down his throat and he sputters.

“_Fireball?_” He gasps, coughs turning into a laugh as Sherlock takes a drink and turns red in the face. “That’s awful!”

“Dreadful.” Sherlock agrees, blinking rapidly as the alcohol settles into his stomach. He grins again and offers the container back to John, who takes it despite his earlier declaration and helps himself to another mouthful. Laughing and stumbling down the sidewalk, passing the fireball between them, they stagger into 221B, stomping up the stairs with unsteady legs and warm chests.

Standing in the kitchen, John flicks on the tv as the countdown reaches zero, and the image shows fireworks and confetti; people yelling and kissing in the streets. Music plays over the image, something happy and wistful, and John turns to find Sherlock leaning against the kitchen table, flask clasped in one hand.

“Happy New Year, Sherlock.” John says, moving towards the other man with unsteady steps. Sherlock stands up straighter, swaying on his feet.

“Happ’ New’yr.” He slurs; loses his balance and swings his arms wildly. John grabs him by the shoulders, laughing, and the other man leans heavily against him. Sherlock is humming, then speaking soft words, and John realizes he’s singing along to the music coming from the television. Surprised, John stares at him, unconsciously swaying with the melody.

“Wait—_you_ know the words to a pop song?” He asks, incredulous through his drunken state. Sherlock is nodding, eyes closed as he quietly sings:

_“So this is the new year,_  
_And I have no resolutions_  
_For self-assigned penance,  
_ _For problems with easy solutions.”_

John stumbles as Sherlock leans his forehead to John’s, warm breath smelling of alcohol against John’s skin. Anchoring his hands on the other man’s waist, he continues swaying to the song, Sherlock following his movements.

“_So everybody put your best suit or dress on—_  
_Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once._  
_Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn,_  
_As thirty dialogues bleed into one”_

Sherlock’s voice is a low, heavy baritone, rumbling through his chest where it presses against John’s. His arms encircle the other man’s shoulders, and they rotate in a slow circle in the kitchen.

_“I wish the world was flat like the old days.  
Then I could travel just by folding a map”_

John clutches Sherlock’s waist, eyes closed and a smile on his face as Sherlock murmurs lyrics against his skin.

_“No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways—_  
_There'd be no distance that can hold us back._  
_There’d be no distance that could hold us back.”_

John hums along; turns his head so his nose brushes along the edge of Sherlock’s jaw. Words fading from his lips, Sherlock tilts his head and brings their mouths together, once, a brief touch, and leans away. John pushes himself up on his toes, following him and capturing Sherlock’s lips with his own. He lifts a hand, cupping the detective’s face in his palm, and kisses him with gentle pressure. Sherlock smiles and they sway back and forth, music floating through the dusty flat.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Sherlock is singing:
> 
> [The New Year by Death Cab for Cutie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MwhxdGAnic)


End file.
